


Wade In The Water

by leiascully



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: fluff_friday, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-16
Updated: 2009-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura Roslin finds the place for her cabin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wade In The Water

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Late S2, pre-occupation  
> A/N: For [**queenzulu**](http://queenzulu.livejournal.com/), who wanted Laura playing in the water. May this [**fluff_friday**](http://community.livejournal.com/fluff_friday/) piece enliven your wait for the new episodes tonight! Title is from the old spiritual of the same name, and all the foreshadowing it entails.  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No infringement is intended and no profit is made from this.

Laura goes by herself, even though she knows better. The planet - New Caprica, she reminds herself, even her inner voice tinged with bitter irony - is uninhabited, but she could twist an ankle or find a toxic plant or any number of things. But she isn't the President any longer, and she can go places by herself. No matter how lovely and accommodating her security detail was, it still chafed to never be alone.

She puts on the fatigues she wore on Kobol on that misbegotten, ill-fated, absolutely necessary trek to the tomb of Athena. They remind her of Bill Adama, and of Lee when she first met him, when he was Captain Apollo and she was still _that schoolteacher_. She chuckles softly to herself as she packs a bag. Things were simpler then, in a way, and in a way hopelessly complicated. Either way, she's settled now.

Lunch, a water bottle, a blanket, and an extra sweater packed, she laces up her boots and ducks out of the tent. She meets Kara and Sam in the street (funny to think of them that way now, having been nearish neighbors for months, funny to think of this dusty lane as a proper street).

"Off exploring, sir?" Kara jokes, with a grin. Sam has his arm slung comfortably over her shoulders. They look surprisingly happy despite the rumors.

"I had to get out of the house for a while," Laura says. "I'm sure you both know how it is."

"Can't stomach the company anymore? I understand completely," Kara says, and jabs Sam in the ribs with her elbow, but she's leaning into him in a fond, familiar way at the same time, and all three of them smile. Laura almost remembers what it was like to be that young; she's not unhappy to be where she is.

"Stay safe, ma'am," Sam says, and she nods and smiles and heads off on her way.

It's not a tough hike. Even for an out-of-shape schoolteacher, it's easy enough to find a way up the hills. She's dawdling, enjoying herself. She stops every now and then to peer at a plant - it's not a lush planet by any means - or rest on a rock. After that, she pushes on, with a sense of wanting to get to somewhere, and she knows it when she finds it. She's halfway up the side of a mountain and there's a clearing with a lake and a stream. The water's incredibly clear, too inviting to resist. She sets down her pack and unlaces her boots, fetching her sandwich. There's even a rock near the edge of the lake to sit on as she dips her toes into the water, washing away the last traces of space, of triumph and failure.

The last time she had this luxury, she was in Caprica City, that pretty little plaza with the fountain, meeting with that self-important man from the teachers' union, and Gaius Baltar swanning about in the background of the scene. This, despite everything, is better; she's a better person since the end of the world. A truer person. She takes a deep breath of clean, cool air. The sun is warm enough to feel good; for New Caprica, it's a beautiful day. There's even a patch of plants in the clearing along the banks of the creek, spreading back to the treeline. She eyes it and thinks of her blanket. Once, near the end of a near-interminable meeting, she leaned over to Bill.

"Do you know what I miss most, since the world ended?"

"What's that, Madam President?" he'd asked, voice grave and gravely, playing along with her pretense of serious business.

"Afternoon naps," she'd said, "that deliciously wicked feeling of playing hooky. Such a luxury."

"My sheets are clean," he'd said. "No guarantees for any of the others, but you can have any bunk on my ship, if you think the civilian government can support such decadence from its commander-in-chief."

"Decadence is the hallmark of civilization," she'd teased, and he'd smiled, and they'd gone back to listening to the complaints of the fleet.

Now, dreaming in the sunshine with her sandwich in hand, she thinks of him. She allows herself the luxury of imagining that he'd chuckle at her whimsy and curl up behind her, comfortingly bulky. She slips off the rock, drags her blanket out of the pack, and shakes it over a particularly inviting patch of greenery. The alarm on her watch is set for well before the sun will go down; she'll have time to get back, and she has time to doze. The plants crushed under the fabric have a pleasant spicy scent that seems to go to her head. She rolls a few leaves between her fingers. It feels good just to have sap on her skin again, and dirt, real dirt. If she breaks out in a rash, so be it.

Laura settles in, cozy enough, her extra sweater folded under her head, and remembers civilization. The sky seems so blue, and she can see the pebbles in the water even at this distance from the shore. She imagines living here, staying here, making a home of it. The sun warms her until her bones feel like part of the earth, or maybe she's already asleep.

When she dreams, she sees the cabin, clear as if she's already drawn up the plans and put up the walls. She's standing in a bright kitchen, leaning against a counter, a cup of coffee in her hand, and Bill is there. He comes over, smiling, and leans in to kiss her as if he's done it a hundred times before, the mug warm between their chests. Happiness brims up in her. She hadn't realized how much she misses him. She turns her face into the sweater, pressing her cheek against it, sighing contentedly.

She wakes at the beeping of her alarm, shakes her hair out of her face, and stretches luxuriously. There's a lovely sunlit haze over everything, and a lovely clarity to her thoughts. She gathers a number of the plants, rolls them into the blanket, and tucks them away into her pack. Later, she'll recapture the dream. She'll come back, she'll build the cabin, she'll hope for the rest. For now, it's time to return to the reality of dim tents and dusty streets.


End file.
